Snatch
by Swiper. No swiping
Summary: Well, a man can think, can't he?
1. Bollocks

Swiper. No Swiping. died for this. No, really. Died for it.  
Drank himself half to death on Jameson. And then run over by a van driven only by wild animals which, well, killed him all the way dead. It was truly God's will.

If you don't read this, you don't have a heart.

cornwallace/Swiper - 2010

* * *

_[VINING]: So I sez to her, I sez, Xiang you nappy-headed ho. What you been doing on my couch? It's all wet. Smells rank.  
[NEVADA]: Hahaha. Dayumn, Lee.__  
[VINING]: Did you come over just to give birth on my couch again, Xiang?  
[NEVADA]: Again? Are you kidding me?_

"What is this garbage on the radio? Turn it off."

Commands from Fox. He's resting his feet on the dashboard next to the bobblehead figure of General Pepper.

"I don't see you driving. You turn it off."

"Fine, fine." Fox leans forward and turns the radio off. "There. Much better."

"Man. You sure you don't want to put on some music or something?"

Fox flicks at General Pepper's head with his finger. "I really like this. It's a nice touch. I wasn't aware they made General Pepper bobbleheads."

"I hadn't seen any, either. Not until now."

"We should really get some for the Great Fox. I wonder if they make them in larger sizes for larger ships. At least I'm going to buy one of this size, put it in my Arwing. I think it's pretty funny."

"Cool story, bro."

"So, anyway, Falco," turning to look at the bird again. "Why did we need to steal this van again?"

Falco grins.

"Whoa," Fox sez, eyes wide. "I've never seen you grin before."

"Whaddya mean? I do it all the time."

"No, I mean," Fox massages the air in front of his muzzle, gesticulatory. "Uh, your beak."

--  
--

**SNATCH**

_I'm actually sorry for this one. _

--  
--

"Whaddya mean, my beak."

"Well, uh, I–"

"You racist little shit." And Falco grins again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Naw, it's cool. I was just messing with you. I can't actually grin, smirk, smile, or frown. You have lips and teeth. I don't."

Falco grins again.

--  
--

_No, actually, I'm not sorry at all. _

_Ha, haha._

--  
--

"Just another example of how all Lylatian society is, at its core, canid supremacist. I can't fully express myself because some howler up in office decided that smiles were smiles."

"Geez, I'm sorry."

Falco drives through a red light, police cameras flashing and irritated soccer moms honking. "Naw, don't be. I've come to terms with it. Plus I seem to get by. It's just a distinction, really."

"Falco, you just drove through a red light."

"So?"

"So, not only is it already illegal but we're also driving in a van that we just stole. What if a cop saw?"

"What if a cop saw. It don't really matter."

"We could go to jail, Falco."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Yes it would."

"Oh yeah. Right. We haven't been to jail before. Man, I don't know why I even said that."

"Expositional purposes?"

Falco looks up at the ceiling of the van, still driving forward. "No, I don't think so. Or at least that's my gut feeling."

"I can't remember how you talked me into this."

"Neither do I. Don't worry so much."

"Don't worry?" Fox's voice gaining in volume. "Don't worry? I'm suddenly having a moral panic here because I have just realized the gravity of the situation we're in, and you're telling me not to worry?"

Falco just looks at him.

"Man, why are you acting so strange all of a sudden. You were totally fine a moment ago."

Fox calms down. "I'm not sure."

"What are you so worried about?"

"Well uh, maybe my reputation will be tarnished. I guess."

"Puh-leez. We're not gonna get caught. Trust me."

"Why should I trust you? You just talked me into stealing a van."

"Man, I've been your friend for, well, how many years now? Since '97."

"Earlier than that."

"Since '93. I think you can trust me."

"Has it really been that long?"

"You said it yourself."

"How, uh," Fox suddenly looks disturbed. "How old am I again?"

"You don't look a day over eighteen, my fine friend."

"Weird. I thought I was twenty-six for a second."

"You might be. I forget. It keeps changing."

"How can it keep changing? It's my age."

"Every year your age changes, wise ass. Now here's a better question: how old am I?"

Fox stares at the ceiling of the van. "I, uh, I'm not sure?"

"Right? I don't know either."

"When's your birthday? Can you remember?"

Falco grins, in that Falco-grinning sort of way he's already described. "Nope."

"You're probably one year older than me, roughly. I feel good about that."

"How good?"

"Pretty good."

Falco sighs, staring at the road again. "All right. Then I'm whatever age you are plus one year."

"A good measurement if I've ever heard one."

"It's sort of disconcerting, not remembering your age."

"Why?"

"Well, if you don't know your age, how can you act it?"

"Is that some philosophy I hear there?"

"Oh touché."

"What?"

"What. I said Oh touché."

"Why?"

"Because you said something bitingly witty."

"I didn't think it was bitingly witty."

"Well, a man can think, can't he?"

"As he pleases."

Fox takes a moment to stare at his feet. Falco stares at the road and frowns. His fists tighten around the steering wheel, his eyes locking on the sidewalk ahead.

A little white rabbit. Peddling her pink bike as fast as she can, in the same direction. The wind at her back, ruffling her polka-dotted dress wildly, as she freely glides her way into the future. Until, uh, that is, this happens.

"Fucker," Falco mutters under his breath.

Fox turns to him, a confused expression on his face. "You say something?"

"FUCKER!"

Falco damn near kicks the pedal through the floorboard, stepping as hard as he can on the gas, engine roaring as Falco jerks the wheel, causing the right side of the vehicle to climb the curb and sweep the sidewalk.

"WHAT THE FUCK, FALCO?!"

It doesn't take long for the van to catch up to her, as she gets bigger and bigger and finally disappears under the windshield. A blood-curdling scream, followed by splattering, crunching and tearing.

Falco looks into the rear view mirror, only to find a mangled bike covered in blood, tumbling with the leftover momentum.

"She's probably stuck to us," he sez, scratching his beak and slowing the vehicle considerably. "We should probably stop at a carwash."

Fox, frozen in horror, and pale as a sheet. Mouth agape. Unable to speak.

"How are you pale, anyway? You have fur, remember? I can't even see your skin."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Falco?!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, what?"

"I mean, what. Now, what?"

"You just fucking killed that poor little girl, man!"

"Who? The hooker?"

"Hooker? What the fuck are you talking about, man? She looked like she was six!"

"Yeah. I've seen them come even younger. Naw, ya get it?"

"You're sick. You're a sick fuck, Falco."

"No, really. It's tragic. I was doing it a favor by putting it out of its misery."

"What the fuck are you talking about?! What reasoning do you have for her even being a hooker, man? Other than the fact that she looked about six!"

"Did you see the way she was flaunting that shit? It's like she wanted me to cum on her titties. So, I, uh, ran her over. To teach her a lesson. Or, uh, put her out of her misery. Whatever."

"That's not even cool, Falco. I stand by it, you are a sick fuck."

"Oh, touchè."

"I can't even handle that shit right now, Falco. Please, just shut the fuck up."

"Aw, what's the matter, baby? Did my baby get fucked too hard? Aw, I sawwie, baby. I sawwie I hurted your butt."

"Do you have any idea how retarded you're acting right now?! You just ran over a little girl in a fucking stolen van! Why the fuck are we even doing this, anyway?"

"Running over prostitutes? For justice, of course. Cornerian justice."

"No, you demented fuck. Why did we steal this van in the first place?"

"Oh, god, bring back the past again. Alright, Fox. Okay. I stole the van."

"Yes, but why?"

"Why do anything? Look, you fucker, this is important. We're on a mission, Fox. A mission for peace. A mission for justice. Fuck, man, we'll be heroes."

"We're going to jail, man, we're fucking going to jail, and I know it."

"Alright, you faggot. Enough of that. Only faggots go to jail. And if you get us pinched with that faggotry of yours, and take me down with you, I swear to Christ I'll rape you to death. You know. Like Mr. Hands."

"What's a Christ?"

"I dunno, man, I think I heard it on the radio somewhere. The point is we had to steal the van. Had to. For justice."

"You're insane. Or just fucking retarded. I can't tell."

"Oh, touchè."

"I hate you, Falco. I fucking hate you."

"Look, just calm down, Fox." He opens the glove box, eyes still on the road, and fishes out a bottle of pills. Rattles it around satisfyingly. "Here, have another one of these," he sez, tossing the bottle into Fox's lap.

"Yeah, okay."

"We need to find a carwash."

"Yeah. Like, if only god could just magically place one here for the sake of moving things along lazily."

"We're here."

"Badass."

Getting out of the van, they walk around to the front to admire the damage. To the girl, not the van. Van was unaffected.

"Damn, nigga."

"Right? This is what us old timers refer to as street pizza. Picked that lingo up back in Nam."

"Firstly, we already established you're only a year older than me. Secondly, what the fuck's a Nam?"

"You'll understand when you're older, kiddo."

"Again. Only a year."

"How am I supposed to teach you a year's worth of wisdom in enough time for you to not stop caring?"

"I already don't care. You have no idea what you're on about."

"Oh, touchè."

"Goddamnit, Falco."

"Mmm, street pizza. Damn good eats."

"What?"

This is when Falco digs into the mangled lump of fur, skin, blood and bones hungrily.

"Falco, what the hell are you doing?!"

The bird ignores him, tearing away flesh, snapping at it with his beak and awkwardly tilting his head back to swallow.

"Falco, stop! We have to clean this shit up, we have to get rid of the evidence! We could go to jail, you idiot!"

Falco only turns and squawks madly, a crazed look in his eye, strings of blood and chunks of flesh dripping from his open beak.

He angrily starts pecking at Fox, for interrupting his eating rituals.

Fox hits him in the stomach, and he returns to normal.

"I'm hungry, du. Let's get something to eat."

"What about the little girl?"

"Leave it for the birds. Ha! Haha!" He walks to the van and gets in.

Fox follows suit. "Boy, I'm glad we made it out of that situation safely."

"Well, that's why I'm the main character in all the games, Fox. I'm the one who gets us out of sticky situations."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I've always been the frontman, Fox. You must have known this."

"The franchise is called STAR FOX. Not FALCO. What, are you stupid?"

"A man can think, can't he?"

"Dude, if you keep saying non-sensical shit like this, you're gonna piss off the fandom."

"Fuck the fandom. That's right. You heard it right here. Falco sez fuck the fandom. Fuck the furfag thirteen year olds who jack off to this shit. That's right. You. The one reading this. That's right. If you take a fox that flies a spaceship and kills shit across the universe that seriously, than fuck you. Go back to your hugbox."

"Ouch. I take me seriously."

"Well, you shouldn't. And fuck you, too."

"Falco?"

"Yeah?"

"What's a hugbox?"

"Fuck if I know. I imagine god put that word in my brain as some cosmic joke that we'll never fully understand. Probably some kind of meme from the universe out there..."

"What if it was Satan?"

"Fundamentally the same thing. But I like where you're head's at."

"So, this van."

"This van. This van. Nnh."

"Why did we steal it again?"

Falco grins.

"Nah, you're not gonna change the subject this time. Tell me why we stole the van."

"The answer will come to you, Fox. You'll understand when you're older."

"And just what am I going to learn that in a year's time?"

"You'll learn that in a year, Fox."

"Why can't you just teach me?"

"It would take a year for me to teach you what you could learn in a year's time, friend, but by the time the year was over, you would have learned it yourself anyway. It's just the way the world works."

"My head hurts."

"Take another one of those pills. You'll feel better. Promise. Ooo, look, a burger joint."

Falco and Fox step down from the vehicle, the furry one popping more pills into his mouth, crushing them between his teeth.

"Ah, dude. This is the bottom of the fast food chain. Are you really that hungry?"

He opens the door and they walk in. "My gut tells me yes. And my gut never lies. Never."

The All-Cornerian Burger.

"Well, the people inside sure do look Cornerian, don't they? Heh heh heh."

"Charles Bukowski?"

"Hey, you leave that asshole out of this. He doesn't exist in this universe."

"Uh, sorry?"

"Just order so we can get the fuck out of here."

They approach the fat, pimply teenager at the counter. In a mundane voice, he greets them.

"What do you want?"

"Get me a cheeseburger. Fox, you want?"

"Nah."

"Okay, you want a cheeseburger. What kind of cheeseburger would you like, sir?"

"What? Just get me a fucking cheeseburger."

"Well, what do you want on it? You see, there's a large menu behind me that has all different kinds of cheeseburgers on it, and if you could just specify what kind you would like it would make things run a lot more smooth-"

"Alright, goddamnit. I've had enough. Of you, you understand? I've had enough of you. All you've done since I've gotten here is fucking talk. Talktalktalktalktalk. Shut up."

"But sir-"

"But nothing, you little fucker. Do you know who I am? I'm a fucking hero. I probably saved your pathetic existence from a very abrupt, very painful end dozens of times. And you know what? I can't say I'm too happy I did that at this point. Now, get off your fucking fat pimply ass, and get me a goddamn cheeseburger. You fuck."

The cashier nods, and places the order, sliding a number across the counter. Fox pays the total and tells him to keep the change.

"Here's your number."

"Where's my cheeseburger? I didn't order this."

"It's cooking. This is so we know who to bring it to."

"I've got your fucking number, pal. I came here to be straight with you, and you keep mucking shit up with all your retarded jibberyjoo."

"Your burger will be right out, sir. You may have a seat."

"Useless. You are fucking useless, you know that? Useless as tits on a man. Give me the fucking number."

Falco and Fox find a table and sit down.

"Jesus, Fox, what was that all about?"

"Fucker tried to Jew me."

"No, he didn't, he was asking you what kind of-"

"Oh, so you're going to take his side? Who's side are you on, anyway? Are you one of those fucking Jews, or are you one of us Cornerians?"

"Well, this is the All Cornerian Burger. Home of the all Cornerian burgers."

"Irrelevant. He's obviously a spy for the Jews."

"Why this sudden anti-Semitism?"

"Why? Fuck 'em. That's why."

"You're burger, sir," the fat pimply guy sez, laying the tray in front of Falco.

"Yeah, that's right. Keep walkin', douche bag! This is my house."

Falco opens the wrapper and picks it up, studying it.

"What do you think is in that thing, anyway?"

"I dunno, man. Horse. Human. Something weird."

"That's assuming it's meat."

"Well, I think it is. I mean, look at it. Smell it. Meat."

"I don't know about that. Could be anything, really. You never know with these places."

"Let's just say it's aborted fetuses," Falco sez, taking a bite.

"What?"

"Oh man." Chomp, chomp. "This burger." Chomp, chomp, chew. "The best. Ever." Chew and swallow. Falco takes another bite.

"This should be pertinent: does eating really make you feel good?"

Falco stops chewing. Fox continues.

"Come to think of it, has any food ever actually made you feel good?"

The bird swallows. "No. Never."

"And how does it make you feel."

"Like my body is filled with wet cement."

"Right? Why?"

Silence.

Falco sez: "What do you think?"

"Man, uh, I don't know."

"A man has a right to think, don't he?"

"Stop saying that."

Falco takes another bite out of his burger.

Fox, this time. "If it makes you ill, then why are you still eating it?"

"I paid for it, didn't I?"

"That's not good enough. Throw it away."

"Nuh-uh. Somebody back there in that kitchen, somebody crafted this with love."

"Falco, it's fast food. Nobody gives a shit about fast food."

"Well that's a social paradigm I intend to change. Through protest. Of eating this burger that makes me physically ill."

"Yew there. Yew boys."

Enter the cop: a plump bloodhound with reflective aviator glasses he was still wearing inside for some reason. Slowly moseyed over to their table. Well, what Fox and Falco could only describe as moseying. Maybe more like a waddle.

Verbs are difficult.

"Yew boys drivin' that van there?" He points, out the window, to the van they stole with his club.

His nightstick.

His truncheon.

His cudgel.

His enforcer of justice.

_His dildo._

"Um, no?"

"I saw yew." The cop sez. "I saw yew drivin' up here in that there van."

Falco folds his arms, the patty from his burger landing on his bicep. "Your point, officer?"

"Yew boys don't really work for the Croc Pot? Finest Zonessian kwizine here in Corneria City?"

"Don't you mean _cuisine_, officer?" Fox asks.

"I ain't be needin' none of your sass now. I know who yew are."

"Really."

"Yer Fawks Miklowd, aren't yew. The faymus merrsenairy."

"No, sir. I'm not. Though you'd be surprised how often I get confused with him. You see, here on my I.D. card," pulling out his license and giving it to the officer: "You'll see that my name is, in fact, Fox McCloud. Not Fawks Miklowd."

The officer gives the license a _long hard_ stare. Then he turns to Fox and gives _him_ a _long hard_ stare.

"Arright," he growls. "Never yew mind. Yew boys have a good day." Then he waddles away.

Or moseys away. Whatever.

"Handled like a trew profeshunnal."

"Are you done with your burger? I want to get out of here."

"Fuckin' howler cops. All right, let's bounce."

"Bounce?"

"It's slang for going."

"Sez who?"

"I, uh, don't know." Falco looks puzzled for the umpteenth time today.

"Did you just make it up?"

The bird throws his burger in the trash. "I don't think so, but I can't remember ever hearing it before, so I guess I must've."

"Weird. Bounce. I'll try to remember it."

"Don't worry about it. I don't think I'll say it ever again."

Falco pushes the door open. Fox follows him out to the parking lot.

"You know," Falco sez, fishing his keys out of his pocket. "This is a good idea."

"What is?"

"This soul searching." He unlocks the van and gets in. Fox follows suit, putting his legs up on the dashboard again.

"What are you talking about, Falco."

Falco starts the ignition. The van hovers above the ground again. "I think this could be the start of a beautiful, self-realizing adventure."

The van reverses into the parking lot, then rolls forward to the curb where the street and the edge of the parking lot meet.

"And I think you're full of shit."

Falco presses on the gas and zoom, away they go, straight down the street.

"Your ma."

"Hey, you leave my poor old dead mother out of this."

"Your mother isn't old or dead, Fox. I slept with her last week."

"No, she's dead. You mean she isn't poor or old. She slept with you. You can only score with dead chicks. That is what I am implying."

"Oh touché."

"Stop saying that. It's out of character."

"Right. I should be more Italian. Get outta here you mook."

"Much better."

"I feel like the word mook should be a racist slur. You know, like a cow."

"Like mook is short for moocow?"

"Right. In our world, words should take on different meanings, because our society is different. Different than human society, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about: the word human, for example. How the hell do we know what that means? We have no humans here. I've never seen one. I don't think anybody's ever seen one."

"Well, we aren't human. But we don't feel like describing ourselves as anything else, because any other description would be irrelevant to humans. You know what I'm saying?"

"Haha. Yeah. I heard one guy describe us as being mammalian."

"Man. That's pretty gay."

"Right? What a fag."

"Anyway."

"Mammalian. That implies everyone is a mammal. I'm not a mammal. What the fuck am I supposed to be again: avian or some shit?"

"I have no idea. Are we the same, genetically? Similar, anyway? Or are we different species? Are you even able to have kids with Katt?"

"I'm not sure, man. If we did, would they be half-cat, half-bird? Or would they just come out a mass of genetic no-good?"

"Well, we're all sentient, that's for sure. Did we come to be as different possibilities of life on different planets in the solar system? Or were we always just separate species on the same planet? Or are we just different subspecies?"

"I can't remember."

"Man. Neither can I."

"I feel like we should know."

"We probably should."

"Didn't they teach us that shit in school?"

"Did we ever go to school?"

"Man. I can't remember that either."

"We've got to stop drinking so much."

"But I like drinking."

"Tough tits, I guess."

"Heh. Now that's a funny expression."

"I'm not even really sure what it means."

"What? How so? I'm pretty sure this is cut and dry, Fox."

"I've never seen a titty before."

"What? No shit?"

"Can't remember seeing one. Ever."

"You get all the broads. How have you never seen a titty?"

"I don't remember. I don't remember Krystal's, or Fara's, or Fay's, or Miyu's or my mother's or all those other girls I've had sex with."

"Did you bang them with their shirts on?"

"I've never had sex with my mother. I would never have sex with my own mother. That's disgusting."

"Did you bang all those included in your list sans your mother with their shirts on?"

"This conversation is making me uncomfortable."

"You're right. Neither of us have ever had sex."

"What? Really?"

"Well, it's not canon anyway. There's ton of artwork of us getting it on all over the internet. All of us."

"Man. I guess it's touching that somebody cares, anyway."

"Touching."

"A-harr harr harr. Fuck you."

"Up yours."

Pause. Silence.

"So we're sexless, soulless, inhuman organisms?"

"Technically we aren't even organisms."

"Shit."

"No, really. Metabolism isn't canon, either."

"Neither is Fara. Or Command for that matter."

"Man. Command. Let's discuss that. How many things went wrong with that game, am I right or amirite?"

"This is honestly my only complaint: what the fuck is wrong with you, Nintendo? Why do you keep on making gaming consoles too frustrating to play? The DS with its stylus, the Wii mote: what the shit?"

"Damn, man. That's innovation."

"That's bullshit, if you ask me."

"I did ask you. Now I wish I hadn't."

"How are you feeling?"

"Sick."

"Me too."

"Fuck, man. We have to stop eating. We have no digestive systems: that shit just rots inside us. We have no metabolism. Hell, we're not really alive."

"So what does that make us, then? Zombies?"

"Philosophical zombies."

"Wow. P-zombies. That's a concept that didn't need to be introduced into this story."

"Yeah."

"Man, where are we?"

Fox looks out the windshield, only to see viscous green muck completely obscuring everything. He looks out his passenger window, to see that they're submerged headfirst into a swamp.

"A swamp? What part of Corneria is this?"

"Eyyy fuhgeddaboudit."

"Cut the shit, Falco. Brooklyn isn't real."

"What?"

"You heard me. Everyone knows there's no such thing as Brooklyn."

Tears begin to brim in the bird's eyes.

"You bastard. Why would you say that?"


	2. Bollolocks

_[NEVADA]:_ Caller number nine-eleven, you're on the air.

_[KATT]:_ Hi, Nevada. My name's Katt. Long time listener, first time caller. Well, first time listener, first time caller.

_[NEVADA]:_ Tell Nevada all about what's troubling you, baby.

_[KATT]:_ Well, see, this is pretty personal.

_[NEVADA]:_ So personal that you feel the need to go on a radio show with it?

_[KATT]:_ Ha. I just want attention, you know.

_[NEVADA]:_ You and everybody else who's alive, hon. Now, tell me. What's new, pussycat?

_[KATT]:_ You're just full of them today, aren't you.

_[NEVADA]:_ Do you really have problems or are you just wasting my time.

_[KATT]:_ Right. Back to what I originally called about. I've been hearing voices.

_[NEVADA]:_ *whistles* Shit, darling. That's no good.

_[KATT]:_ Well, one voice. Deep, booming, masculine. Sexy.

_[NEVADA]:_ You been dreaming about me again, baby?

_[KATT]:_ You're just full of them today, aren't you.

_[NEVADA]:_ Didn't you already say that?

_[KATT]:_ Déja vu.

_[NEVADA]:_ What language is that?

_[KATT]:_ French, I think?

_[NEVADA]:_ Never heard of it. Anyways, keep going. Have you gone to a psychiatrist yet?

_[KATT]:_ No, and I don't intend to.

_[NEVADA]:_ Really? Why not?

_[KATT]:_ Well you know that old joke, right?

_[NEVADA]:_ No. I don't.

_[KATT]:_ All right, I'll tell it to you. So this guy goes to a psychiatrist and sez Doc, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken.

_[NEVADA]:_ Uh-huh.

_[KATT]:_ And the psychiatrist goes Well why haven't you turned him in? And the guy sez I would, but I need the eggs.

_[NEVADA]:_ That's not funny.

_[KATT]:_ Well I didn't write it.

_[NEVADA]:_ No, really. It's not funny. And it doesn't make any sense. Where is the guy getting the eggs from?

_[KATT]:_ He thinks he's a chicken.

_[NEVADA]:_ That's it?

_[KATT]:_ I didn't ask for your opinion on the joke. The point is that I'd go and get it checked out, but the voice tells me that he's God.

_[NEVADA]:_ God?

_[KATT]:_ That's right.

_[NEVADA]:_ Well, sweetheart, it's just a voice in your head. You can't _really_ believe that it's God.

_[KATT]:_ Well, normally I wouldn't. But see, he tells me everybody's sins and exactly what they deserve for them. And that it's my duty to act on his wishes.

_[NEVADA]:_ Okay, broad, listen good because I'm only gonna say this once. You're a crazy. A nutter. Your future lies in garbage bag clothing and tinfoil hats.

_[KATT]: _Hey.

_[NEVADA]:_ You gotta get this checked out. Before something dangerous happens, either to you or someone else. Babe, promise me you'll see someone. They have things they can do to help.

_[KATT]: _You wanna hear what God sez about you?

_[NEVADA]:_ Uh, I know I shouldn't, but I'll bite. What's he say about big ol' bad ol' me?

_[KATT]: _Oh he sez you've been bad. Very bad. He watches you.

_[NEVADA]:_ Watches me?

_[KATT]: _He's always been watching you. He knows what you did.

_[NEVADA]:_ What I _did?_

_[KATT]: _Yes.

_[NEVADA]: _What are you talking about?

_[KATT]: _Your neighbor's daughter. The pregnant one.

_[NEVADA]: _What? How did you–

_[KATT]: _Also, he sez that the next time you drop PCP he's going to make you eat your girlfriend's lungs.

_[NEVADA]:_ Listen to me you crazy bitch, you leave me and my girlfriend alone. I don't know how the fuck you found out where I live but–

_[KATT]: _I don't watch you. God does. God told me.

_[NEVADA]: _That's, that's just a fucking coincidence. There's no way in hell you really–

_[KATT]: _Goodbye now, Nevada. I have to go and do God's work. Nice talking to you.

_[NEVADA]: _Wait, don't hang–

*click*

--

"Heh. Just realized something funny."

"What?"

"We have no metabolic systems, right? The shit that we eat stays in us forever, because we have no way of digesting it, right?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"So when we drink alcohol, that shit stays in us forever. It won't get pushed out when we take a piss, since we can't take a piss."

"Where are you going with this, Falco?"

"So basically we're constantly drunk."

Fox sez nothing. Just stares out the windshield at the swamp muck sucking the car in.

Falco snorts. In the physically unexplainable way Falco can, as he has no nostrils. "Explains a lot, don't it."

"Wait. Are you sure you're thinking this through correctly?"

"Pretty sure. Why?"

"Well, if we have no metabolic system, alcohol has no way of reaching our brains. So we can in theory never be drunk."

"But we have."

"Have we?"

"It was implied in the previous chapter, yeah."

"But you don't remember it, do you?"

"C'mon, we drank beer at least twice. Remember?"

"That was Command. And two separate endings of it, to boot. Not canon at all."

"Just because it wasn't canon doesn't mean we can ignore it. It still happened."

"Actually, I think that's the entire point of canon. Continuity. We _can _and _should_ ignore things that aren't considered canon. Plus, they were two separate endings. How did both of them happen?"

"Wise ass."

Fox turns his head to stare out the windshield again.

"I think this is more of a bog," he sez. "Not a swamp. I think it was defined poorly."

"You know," Falco sez, crossing his legs underneath him. "If we never feel the necessity to eat, how come we have food? What's it there for?"

"That's a good question if ever I heard one." Fox is full of sarcasm because he's a fag.

"Oh har har."

Suddenly the car lurches backward. The dynamic duo's heads hit the dashboard in unison.

"What was that?"

"Swamp monsters?"

"You mean _bog_ monsters."

"Shut up."

The lurch comes back again. The muck recedes from the windshield. The van rights itself on the ground.

"Check it out, Fox. Looks like we've just witnessed an act of god."

"Or, uh, a tow truck."

Falco turns around. Lo and behold, there's a tow truck with its hook attached to the back bumper of the van.

"Well, I suppose that's a little more realistic, o ye of little faith."

"Hey now, hey. I never said I didn't believe in god."

"No, you didn't. I'll give you that much. But if you did, you'd probably thank god for sending the tow truck."

"That isn't an accurate observation at all. How do you know I didn't praise god internally?"

"Oh, wise guy, eh?"

"Why are you bringing up god?"

"Maybe you need a little Jesus in your life, you soulless heathen faggot, you."

"What is a Jesus?"

"No fucking clue, little man."

"Then why do you bring these things up?"

"Oh, touchè."

"Oh shit."

"What?"

"Fuck! Shitshitshit!"

"Stop your nonsensical blathering and tell me what's wrong, man!"

"There's a fucking police cruiser back there. Don't you see the lights?"

"Oh. That's what those are. Interesting."

"Oh, fuck, man. I don't want to go to jail."

"Chill, du. I know how to deal. We won't go to jail, as long as you keep your faggotry at bay."

"Ah, fuck. She's coming this way."

"Is that Katt?"

"Aw, fuck. Is she still pissed off at you?"

"Nah, du. It's cool. Trust me, this'll be a piece of cake."

"Is she fucking pointing a gun at us?!"

Katt stands outside the driver's seat, gun pointed at the window. Her muffled voice screaming at them through the seals on the car door. "GET OUT OF THE FUCKING VAN!"

Falco rolls down the window, slowly.

"Is there a problem with my driving, officer?"

"GET OUT OF THE FUCKING VEHICLE! NOW!"

"Falco, I think we should just-"

"Calm down, Fox. You need to take a page or two out of my book. I'm very wise."

"Falco-"

Katt cocks her pistol.

"I SAID GET OUT OF THE FUCKING VAN, SHITHEAD! I WILL BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!"

"Falco, she's fucking serious. I'm getting out of the van, dude."

"Fuckin' pussy."

"YOU HAVE FROM THE COUNT OF NINE TO ELEVEN TO VACATE THE VEHICLE!"

The door opens and Fox quickly steps down.

Falco frowns.

"NINE!"

"Fine, fine. Step back, nigga, I'm a-cummin'."

Falco gets out of the vehicle only to be pistol whipped to the ground, and handcuffed. She gets up, and points the gun at Fox, who's made his way around the vehicle, hands in the air.

"Uh. Hey, Katt. Long time no see, right?"

"I want your hands behind your head, and your face on the pavement, McCloud. Now."

McCloud complies, and is then handcuffed. She helps (forces) them to their feet, as she escorts them to the police cruiser and shoves them in the back.

Katt sez: "Oh, you're under arrest, by the way."

Fox sez: "Aw, come on, Katt. Can't you just let us squeeze by, for old time's sake?"

Katt sez: "Not a chance. I must do god's bidding."

Falco sez: "God? What's that idiot know?"

Fox sez: "What the fuck? What was all that shit about god, earlier?"

Katt sez: "God's telling me to tell you that you two are gonna burn. Hard."

Falco sez: "I'm not scared of that hardon."

Fox sez: "What's that?"

Katt sez: "What?"

Fox sez: "On the side of your head."

Katt sez: "That's my ear."

Falco sez: "Yeah, stupid. That's her ear. I got your back, babe. You want me to tell this loser to bounce, so we can be alone?"

Katt sez: "I am not your girlfriend, Falco."

Falco sez: "Not yet, baby. But once I'm inside you, there aint no turnin' back. You'll be all mine."

Katt sez: "I do have mace on me, Falco. I'm not afraid to use it."

Falco sez: "Aw, come on. Don't be like that, baby."

Fox sez: "You're gonna piss her off, bro."

Falco sez: "Will you just chill out, Fox? I got this."

Katt sez: "What?"

Falco sez: "I was talking to Fox. Telling him I had this."

Katt sez: "Not you, you idiot. I'm talking to god. Shh."

Falco sez: "What?"

Katt sez: "Shh! You want me to what? Why? .... I don't know if I-.... *sigh* As you command, sir."

Katt tears her shirt open, exposing her breasts.

Falco sez: "Woah, dude. I've seen some pretty crazy shit in my time, but Katt just pulled her titties out."

Fox sez: "Yeah, I saw that. True story."

"Ugh, man. Script format. Leaves a bitter taste, don't it."

"You can say that again."

"Okay. Script format. Leaves a bitter taste, don't it."

"Weak, du."

"Fuck you, man. It's vaudeville."

"Vaudeville. Shit."

"What. What's wrong with vaudeville?"

"Well if I went in front of a crowd with a bowler hat and blackface doing the fucking Charleston, I don't think that anyone would consider it fresh."

"Blackface?"

"Blackface."

Katt turns her head to look at them. "What are you guys talking about back there?"

"Nothing, baby. Don't worry about it."

She groans. "All I hear is blackface, blackface, blackface. Are you guys high or something?"

Falco laughs, high on irony. "Excuse me Miss Prissy, but weren't you the one just tweaking a minute ago?"

"What?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong here."

"Falco–" Fox groans like the fag he is.

"No, no, _really_. Correct me if I'm wrong here, but YOU _distinctly _said: I'm _talking to GOD_. And then, under _his_ supposed command, you ripped your shirt open and showed us your tits."

Katt's eye twitches. "So?"

"_So_?"

"So–" Fox chimes in. Falco smacks him upside the head with the back of his hand.

"Explain."

"Fuck you, Falco, that hurt!"

"Hahahaha. Listen to you. You're such a pussy."

"Fuck off."

"Us acting like stoned teenagers aside," Falco sez.

Katt looks at the road again. "You always act like stoned teenagers. You have been for this entire story."

"What you say?"

Her paws grip the wheel, her back arched. And she mutters, half-growling: "Swiper you no-good stoner fuck I bet you're stuffing goofballs up your ass right now."

Butt Rocket.

Huhuhuhuhuh.

"When did the dialogue start in with all this drug slang anyway?"

Falco smirks. In the physically unexplainable way Falco can, since he has no lips. "We were talking about you. You dirty, dirty slut."

"It's a good thing those bars are there or I'd be digging my claws into your face about now."

"Dollface, listen. What was that bizness all about god getting you to flash your rack? And when will he get you to do it again?"

A million violent fantasies run through Katt's head of her somehow reaching back there and wrenching Falco's beak right off his face.

But, perhaps, divine intervention will show her the light.

"Rip his beak off?" Katt sez.

"What." Falco sez.

"No, not you. Talkin' to god, here."

"Wut."

"Really? You think I should do it?"

Falco looks at Fox, bewildered.

"Hey man," Fox sez. "I can't do anything. I'm just a pussy, remember?"

"Dude, don't get all butthurt. It was just a joke."

"How was it a joke?"

"Well, remember how I got pistol whipped earlier?"

"Not lulzy enough? I should shoot him and finger myself over his corpse instead?" Katt asks nobody in particular.

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? It's _right there_."

"Right where?"

Falco sighs. Points up the page. "Right _there_."

Falco gets out of the vehicle only to be pistol whipped to the ground, and handcuffed.

"Holy shit," Fox scrambles away from Falco, hitting the window with the back of his head. "How the fuck did you do that?"

"Reference," Falco sez, picking his nose. "If I had truly been pistol whipped, I'd probably be in pain right now. Just another detail in this story the author decides to gloss over."

"Whoa, wait. Hold up. You're picking your nose?"

Falco flicks a booger off his finger. "So?"

"You don't have a nose. Just nostrils. How did you stick your finger in those?"

"Man, that's not the point. The point is I

"What does you getting pistol whipped have to do with hitting me in the head?"

"Well after that, consider us even."

"What the fuck? Even _how_?"

"Your faggotry got us arrested, which got me pistol whipped. So it was your fault."

"My fault? No fucking way, dude. You were the one who wanted to steal the van."

"Well if you had just kept your cool we could've _stayed_ in the van."

"For the _lulls? _Oh. With only one l and a z. Lulz. Now I get it." Katt sez.

Falco shakes his head and continues. "Now we just have to get it back."

"Oh yeah? How are we going to do that?"

"Simple. We're going to commandeer this police cruiser."

"Fuck Pirates of the Caribbean and fuck you too. What are you, some 16 year old girl obsessed with Johnny Depp on Orlando Bloom slash?"

"You're reading into that too much. Faggot."

"Okay, okay. How are we going to steal the car?"

"Have you learned nothing about this story yet? Watch."

Falco moves up to the bars. "Yo. Corneria paging Joan of Arc. CORNERIA PAGING JOAN OF ARC."

Katt turns around. "What did you just call me?"

"Joan of Arc. No idea what that is. Just thought it sounded cool. Anyways," Falco grins in that, well. Fuck you. He's grinning. "You been looking superfly today, baby."

"Not this again."

"When you take us back to the station, you gonna do a little strip search?"

"Shit, man. You interrupted my conversation with god for this?"

"You gonna play a little hide the hot dog in your donut? I know you police girls are into that."

"Falco I'm tired of your–"

"Cuz baby, I'm packing all Italian sausage. Thick, rich–"

"–fucking dago I'm gonna–"

"–creamy–"

"–smug fucking–"

"–all natural–"

"–beak right off your–"

"–Italian sausage."

Katt suddenly hisses and tries batting Falco, only to get her claws stuck in the bars.

"Woah-ho. Kitty's got claws."

And Katt groans. "You've been waiting to use that one, haven't you."

"Only for the past hour, but that's besides the point. I wanna make a little bet with you."

"A bet?"

"You interested?"

Katt sighs. "Okay, Falco. What do you bet?"

"I bet you a blowjob that in nine hundred and eleven seconds, I will be behind the wheel of this vehicle, Fox will be in the passenger seat, and you will be on the side of the road, cursing our names."

"Hah, yeah right."

"No, I'm serious. If you win, you can cut my dick off."

"Dude, what are you doing."

"Be cool, Fox. I got this."

"Oh yeah? I'll take that bet, smartass."

"Aight, nigga. Ai

* * *

_We're sorry for the inconvenience._

_We're experiencing some technical difficulties._

_Thank you for your patience. _

* * *

us Christ, Falco, how the fuck did you do that?"

"What can I say, Fox? I'm awesome."

"No, really. That was amazing. How the fuck did you-"

"Shhh. You'll learn, in time, my boy. When you're older."

"Alright, the age difference thing is getting old."

"Hey, look. I didn't notice before. She has a General Pepper bobblehead, too."

"How cute. So, what now?"

"I dunno, man. For now, we just follow the whims of the great magnet. Later I'd like to let Katt catch up to us. She owes me a blowjob."

"You're insane, Falco."

Falco grins.

"You keep saying that, Fox. And yet, you're still here. You know you love me."

"I can't remember for the life of me how you managed to talk me into this shit."

"Ancient history, man. We have to focus on the mission ahead, remember? Cornerian justice."

"Why is it up to us to bring justice back?"

"It's what we're designed for, fool. We wouldn't exist if we weren't supposed to bring justice back. Hard. We'll rain justice all over the face of this slut we call Corneria, until she's sexy to look at again."

"Hawt," Fox sez, flicking the General Pepper bobblehead. "So what do we do first?"

"First," Falco sez, staring directly at the reader. "First, we're going to get our van back."

--

"Fucking Falco," Katt sez, cursing his name. She sighs and hangs her head. "What the fuck do I do now?"

She looks up and listens for a minute, listening.

"Yes, Lord? .... Yeah, I see it. Pickup truck. Looks like two people inside. .... Mhm, right here," she sez, brandishing her firearm. "What's that, now? ... Oh, okay. FREEZE!" She screams, pointing her weapon at the oncoming truck, and firing madly through the windshield into the driver's torso. Blood sprays against the glass, and the figure goes limp, car careening to the right and into a tree, totaling the vehicle.

"Fuck! What do I do now? .... Try to start it? Did you see that crash? .... Okay, well, if you say so. ... Well, yeah, of course. ... Okay, kill the make sure both parties are dead first. Gotcha."

Katt walks towards the vehicle, aiming her firearm at the cab of the truck. Slowly, she opens the door to a whimpering female pig, covered in blood.

"Please," she sez. "Please don't shoot me."

Katt pries the limp body in her way out of the truck and tosses him to the ground, causing a small dust cloud rise from her feet. She holsters her pistol and crawls into the truck with her. She pauses, listening to God's orders.

"Shoot you?" She sez, repeating the voice in her head, and brandishing her tazer. "I like my bacon fried!"

She jams it into the fat pig's neck and holds the button down until her eyes blacken. Then she opens the truck and kicks her out. Scooting back over, she turns the key, and this causes smoke to curl upwards from the corners of the mangled hood.

"Fuck. It didn't work, God. .... Green seven? What do you mean by that? .... What do you mean, wrong line? .... Ah, okay. Top secret. What do I do now? .... Try again? This didn't work out too well for me last time. .... Oh! Kill the driver AFTER he stops. That makes sense."

"Okay, here someone comes. Green car. Looks shitty. One male driver. Cat. ..... Flash my badge? .... What? .... As in 'Vernon'? ... Are you sure? ....*sigh* Okay, Lord."

Katt proceeds to take her pants off, and lay flat on her back, legs spread wide open. The car comes to a stop, and the cat gets out.

"Are you okay, miss?!"

"Come here, big boy," she sez, gesturing towards her cunt.

He gets to his knees, and starts to close in. She grabs him by the fur on his collar and drags him on top of her, pulling him in close. In a sexy voice, she whispers to him;

"You know what they say about furfags?"

"Uh... what?"

"They yiff."

"What's a yiff?"

"They yiff in hell," she sez, accompanied by the sound of her gun cocking right next to his head. Before he can react, his brains are all over her face, and the pavement beside them. She rolls him off of her, and gets up, dusting her shirt off and putting her pants back on.

"God? You're a genius."

-

"So, right, like, _all_ the enemies in the Sargasso Space Station were chimpos," Fox sez, slumped in the passenger seat. "Apes. All of them."

"Well that's Nintendo for you. None of their franchises are very racially sound. Mario has an all-white cast for you."

"Right? None of the main or supporting characters in any of their games is a non-white human being. Look at Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Link? White. Zelda? White. Hylians? White. All of them. Gerudos? Some weird and racist caricature of Arabs, that's what."

"Gerudos? Towelheads? Naw, du. I thought they were green."

"Uh, no," Fox sez. "Just Ganondorf was green. Didn't you play the game?"

"Well, uh," Falco laughs nervously. "No. I didn't."

"_What?_ Oh wait, let me rephrase that. WHAT."

"Yeah, uh. I didn't play the games. In fact, I never played any video games past age five. I was too busy being a video game character."

"Man. Why are we even friends?"

"Because we were created to be."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense, then."

"Donkey Kong, dude," Falco sez.

"Donkey Kong what?"

"There's a franchise where the main characters aren't white. In fact, even the supporting characters aren't white. There are no white people in that game at all."

"That's because they're apes. All of them. Except the crocodiles, but those are the villains. And it's not even Nintendo. It's RARE. The same faggots who bought us for Adventures."

"Man. Well, fuck it. Guess they're all chimpos, then."

"Well when did you start relating chimpos to black people?"

"What? I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No I didn't."

"Oh. Oh you're right. I don't think you did."

"Falco – 3, Fox – 0."

"What? I don't have a single point?"

"You did. But they were all retracted because you are a fag."

"Falco, when the hell did I say I was a fag?"

"You didn't. But you are one."

"No I'm not, Falco. I don't fuck other dudes."

"You don't fuck anybody. You're a philosophical zombie, not an organism. You have no metabolism. You have no way of fucking people."

"Right. So then how am I a homosexual?"

"For getting us in trouble, douchebag," Falco yells. "Have you been paying attention at all?"

"Yeah, but there's nothing to pay attention to."

"On the contrary, my faggy friend. There is _everything_ to pay attention to. Fuck, our van."

"What?"

Falco and Fox park in front of an empty swamp.

"Our van. They fucking took our van."

"Well, shit. What do we do now?"

"The only thing we can do," Falco sez, flipping the sirens on. "Bring justice back."

"That's what you said we were going to do before."

"Uh. Don't worry about it?"

-

General Pepper, standing at the podium, looks out on the crowd. His face is drawn, elegant as a bloodhound's face can get. The band reaches the final chord of the Cornerian National Anthem and holds, dimming down along with the murmuring of the crowd.

A tear forms in his eye. Caused by a rogue eyelash. Fucking eyelashes. He wipes it off his face with one finger, clears his throat, and leans toward the microphone.

"Citizens of Corneria," Pepper's words bounce off every building, each copy echoing with the same solemnity and pride as the original. "And all citizens of the Lylat System. We are gathered here today, this being the fifth anniversary of the end of the Lylat Wars, to remember our comrades who we lost in the battle. And not only remember them, but also to remember the cause for which they fought for, and that their fighting did not go in v–"

The next instant, Pepper's forehead just above his right eye is caving in, sucking his eye into it. His other eye widening, the back of his skull cracking, tearing skin and fur away to make way for the hot lead, bringing brain matter with it, and covering the podium with bloody pieces of his destroyed mind, fur and particles of skin.

Meanwhile, out in the crowd, there's a police cruiser with its sirens still going, parked on top of several dying Cornerian citizens. In front of the hood stands a fox and an avian, the latter who is inexplicably holding a shotgun.

"Eyyy take that you fascist! I had enuff-a you mooks back in the days of Mussolini."

"Falco, just what part of Corneria are you from again?"

"Trick question. I'm actually from Zoness."

"What? Then how did we meet?"

"I don't know, man. You tell me."

"You just have this really weird accent, dude. It keeps changing."

"Me no speaky English? Fucking racist."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me."

"No, I mean, what's English?"

"What's English? Really?"

"Yeah. What is an English."

"That's the language that we're speaking right now, foo. Nigga you be trippin'."

"What. No."

"Yes."

"I thought it was Lylatian."

"No, you mick, it ain't Lylatian: it's motherfuckin' English. What the fuck is Lylatian?"

"The language of Lylat, dumbass. What is English? The language of Engels?"

"Engels? Never heard of 'em."

"Then how are we speaking English? It's Lylatian, man. I'm telling you."

"Well we could be speaking Dino Language. That ripped-off encrypted version of English."

"Shit, man. That was an entirely unnecessary aspect of Adventures. It was used for about maybe, three or so lines and then the entire concept was abandoned."

"Well, yeah. Adventures was a poorly-thought out game in general. What can you expect? It's a Star Fox game. Since 64, none of them have exactly been noteworthy."

"But that's not the point. The point is: you just fucking shot General Pepper! With a shotgun!"

"Where'd I get the shotgun from?"

"Dude, it's gone now, but that's not the point. The point is: you just fucking shot General Pepper! What the fuck is wrong with you, Falco?!"

"Nothing that wasn't wrong before."

"What?!"

"You heard me, man. General Pepper sucked. He was a shitty ruler. He couldn't do squat. He had to keep falling back on our support to win any war against any threat to Corneria. He would send our troops to die under his terrible plans, while we brought down entire armies. The four of us furfaggots. Admit it: General Pepper fucking sucked."

"So?! He was like a family friend."

"No, mostly he just gave you orders. And then money when you followed through with them."

"Oh. Well, he was my steady cash source, and you killed him. And for this, you bastard, you must pay."

"Fox, you capitalist pussy. We're helping the people. The citizens of Lylat, who you've always purported to help. We've saved them from the greatest menace they've ever known. And you; all you can think about is money?"

"Uh, well–"

Gunshots suddenly came from behind them.

"'Scuse me, 'scuse me," Katt sez, pumping random citizens full of lead. "Sorry, coming through. Remember: you are all guilty in god's eyes."

"Oh shit," Fox sez, nudging Falco with his elbow. "Shit, man. Shitshitshit."

"Stop your nonsensical blathering and look," Falco sez, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second. Is that–"

"The van, dude."

And lo and behold, there is the van. Parked in the middle of the crowd.

"What? How did that–"

"Time to whoop me some furniggers," Katt yells from behind them. "Was that good enough? … What do you mean no? I'm only saying what you're telling me to say. … No, _you're_ pissing _me_ off. No I don't care if you're god, you're pissing me off."

And the pair looks at Katt.

And then they look at the van.

And that's the end of the chapter because I'm tired of writing this right now. Fuck you, I'm god.


	3. Boblolleblocks

"Right. So like, there's this website on the internet. A useful tool for fanfiction authors if I ever saw one."

"What's fanfiction?"

"Shut up. It's called the Mary-Sue Litmus Test. Its purpose is to let authors know when their characters are too much like Mary-Sues."

"What the fuck is a Mary-Sue?"

"I thought I told you to shut up. Anyways. Just for shits and giggles, I ran Krystal through it."

"Krystal? Like, our Krystal?"

"Yeah. Tried to assume her personality as best as I could. Her likes and dislikes. Her role in the games."

"Really. And?"

"In total, Krystal scored a 205."

"Two-hundred and five?"

"Yeah. What'd I say?"

"205."

"Oh. Sorry. Yeah. I meant two-hundred and five."

"Like, out of what?"

"Thirty."

"Thirty?"

"Yeah. Thirty. Did I say 30?"

"Naw. You were good. Keep going."

"Yeah. Two-hundred and five points. Thirty points means your character is a Mary-Sue. Fifty points and the test suggests that you destroy the character and start over. That's like, 166% Mary-Sue."

"One-hundred and sixty six percent."

"Shut up. You know what I meant. Anyways, the appropriate limit is 166% Mary-Sue. Krystal, on the other hand, is 683.33%"

"Shyeeit."

"Right?"

"I have no idea what a Mary-Sue is, but I'm guessing it's bad."

"Bad news, nigga. It's the stereotype of characters who stick out like a sore thumb. Make no sense in canon at all. Too amazing to be realistic."

"That makes way too much sense."

"Right?"

"I mean. Her telekinetic powers."

"Yeah."

"Her staff, in a universe where we all use laser guns and fighter spaceplanes."

"Yeah."

"Her tattoos and her blue fur and shit."

"Yup."

"And I mean, what kind of a name is Krystal? In our universe we're named after our species. Or like, after adjectives that end in -y."

"-ppy. Remember."

"Right. Except Bill. And General Pepper."

"General Pepper's dead now. I killed him."

"So you did."

"Now the only question is," Falco points at the back seat with his beak. "What do we do with her?"

Cut to Katt, who is tied and gagged, and looking rather unhappy with the pair sitting up front.

Fox looks more confused than he has looked throughout this entire story. "No. Uh. The question is: where the fuck are we?"

Cut to a side shot of the van, barreling along a non-descript American highway.

"My guess is as good as yours," Falco sez. "But if I'm following the signs correctly, we're on our way to Freedomopolis, USA."

"You-ess-ayy. Wait, how do you even know that? These signs could say anything."

"No, dude. They're all written in English. Haven't you been looking at them?"

Fox looks annoyed. "We don't speak English. Remember."

"Sorry. I meant Lylatian. Lie-Lay-She-Un."

"So what is this, then," Fox gestures to the outside world. "A parallel universe or something? If they speak Lylatian."

"Could be," Falco sez. "How would I know? Why are you asking me?"

"Because, uh."

"Because you're a fag?"

"Hey. Stop calling me that. I'm not a fag."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Fox stares at his boots. Then at the General Pepper bobblehead.

"Nothing, I guess," he sez, semi-defeated.

"Aha. Ha ha. Seriously though. You're a fag, you fag."

"What makes you say that? I don't fuck other dudes. I can't fuck other dudes. I can't fuck anyone."

"I know. You just act like one. Just accept it."

Fox grabs his head. "I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to act anymore. I feel so out of character."

"You are. We all are."

"Man. Whoever's writing this really sucks."

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

"So, what are we going to do when we get to Freedumbopolis or whatever it is."

"Well. We still need to take care of this problem," Falco starts nodding towards the back seat.

Cut to Katt, squirming and squealing.

"Sexy."

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Corneria.

WE-ARE-THE-APAROIDS. SUBMIT-TO-US.

The crowd around what was once General Pepper's State of the Union speech and is now a giant rift in the universe, is now being assaulted by Aparoids.

Sexually.

A young canine woman, who had foregone the consequences and shown up to the address wearing her Japanese school girl outfit, begins to sob as the Aparoid's tentacle slowly snakes its way up her skirt.

WE-POSSESS-ALL-KNOWLEDGE, the Aparoid coos in that Aparoid way of cooing. EVERYTHING-EXISTS-FOR-US. YOU-WILL-BE-ASSIMILATED-IN-THE-SEXY-WAY.

Over General Pepper's P.A. system, Sex Bomb by Lords of Acid begins playing.

* * *

"And that would just be the beginning."

"The idea is entertaining, I'll admit," Fox sez. "But I don't know if we can sell it.

"Why not? Star Fox: Sexual Assault? It's the best premise for an h-game. Ever."

"But focusing on tentacle rape? I mean, don't you think that limits the potential buyers market?"

Falco looks at him. Just looks at him.

His eyes burning bright red. Brighter than anything Fox has ever seen.

And he opens his beak, slowly. In it appears a void. A vast yellow vortex. More dynamic than Nicky Belane nailing Cindy's ass. Unbelievable.

This isn't the way it happens! Or is it?

* * *

SNATCH

TAKE NINE

* * *

Exhaling a plume of thick, THC ridden smoke, Swiper crosses his arms and leans back in his seat.

Breaking the silence, he sez;

"So, why did we steal this van again?"

cornwallace, not watching the road as he absent-mindedly steers the van and digs for something to listen to, ignores him. Swiper holds the blunt out in front of him, and he comes back to his senses. Well, not really. He just starts to pay attention to Swiper. And the blunt. Not the road.

"This is good weed," cornwallace sez.

"That doesn't explain why we stole this van," Swiper sez.

"Of course it does."

"How?"

"What the fuck are we doing in a van?"

"What?"

"You think too much, Swiper. You should take a page out of my book. The cornwallace guide to being a jerkoff."

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's my book, jackass, don't you listen?" cornwallace sez.

"No. Not that. That."

"What?"

Crunch.

"What the fuck was that?" cornwallace sez.

"I dunno. I think you hit something, du." Swiper sez.

"Hmm. Better back up."

cornwallace puts the van in reverse, and the crunching can be heard once more. The van comes to a halt, and cornwallace and Swiper get out of the vehicle. They approach the front to find the mangled remains of Fox McCloud, twitching and spurting up blood from his esophagus.

"Holy shit. We nailed some furry critter that I can't be bothered to remember right now."

"I think that's a fox, du. I think that's Star Fox."

"Huh. Crazy. What should we do?"

"Um. Drag it behind the van?" Swiper sez.

"I like where your head is at, Swiper. This is why I keep you around. Get the cable wire from the back of the van."

"There's cable wire back there?"

"Uh. Sure?"

"How did you know that?" Swiper sez, tying the cable wire to the van's truck nuts.

Yes. The van has truck nuts. Leave me alone. I'm drunk.

"You and that brain of yours," cornwallace sez. "Stop using it to think about things so much. That's not what it's there for."

"What's it there for, then?"

"Smothering with intoxicants," cornwallace sez, tying Fox's bloody hands together at the back of the vehicle.

"Heh. Oh yeah."

"Anything you want to say to the blessed furnigger?"

"Um. Yiff in hell?"

They get back in the vehicle, and step on the gas, dragging that worthless furnigger along the pavement until he's shredded to a mess of furry, pulpy gore. And that's when Swiper IMs me, asking about how Snatch is coming along. It's coming along fine, Swiper. No, you don't need to look at it just yet. In fact, you don't need to read it at all. Just post what I write, you fuck.

"No, you retard, it's not a self-insert, it's a goddamn Star Fox fanfiction, just write fanfiction, you fuck."

* * *

Fine, you gaywad, I'll try again.

* * *

SNATCH

TAKE ELEVEN

* * *

"So, why exactly was it that we stole this van again?" Sonic sez, watching the city of Mobotropolis pass him by through the glass that separates him from the city he's grown to hate as much as he hates doing things outside of canon.

"You think too much, Sonic. Here, have a beer," Tails sez.

"Where did you get beer? You're not old enough to drink."

"If you're old enough to think, you're old enough to drink."

"Uh." Sonic's confused.

"I said don't think too much. Jesus. Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

"Yeah. You said that if you're old enough to think, you're old enough to drink."

"Is there an echo in here?"

Sonic sighs and makes a '._.' face. Exactly like that. Period underscore period. And he sez: "I heard what you said, Tails. I just don't understand it."

"Then don't question it," Tails takes a swig out of his can of Sparks. Yes, I know that you said they were drinking beer, but I thought Fuck it. Sparks has more comedic value than beer. Why? Because I hate it. I hate it so much. More than I hate commies, and I hate commies a lot. Fucking pinko slime with their unions and their Mao Tse Tung quote books and their local anesthesia and their sodomy Tupperware and their furry fandoms. Whole lot makes me puke.

"Why am I even letting you drive? You're like, what, eight?"

"Nigga pleez," Tails sez, grabbing his crotch. "I been driving machines since before you were born. I am the master of driving. I am da main nigga of dis pussywagon."

"And you're drunk. And driving. Don't you know that's noooo good?" Sonic sez.

"You mean says."

"What?"

"Says. Not sez."

"What did I say?"

"Sez. Remember?"

"Remember what? That I said sez?"

"No, we had this whole bit. Cartoon bit. Like a PSA-announcement thing."

"Oh, right. Sonic Says."

"Yeah. But I'd paint: Sonic Sez, and then you'd cross it out and write Says. So, like, Says, not sez," Tails sez.

"Waitaminnut. You just sez'd that."

Swiper, meanwhile, Swiper's crying tears of agony. No, actually, not tears of agony. Tears of silent realization. Mostly because this isn't funny and nothing he ever does is funny at all, and he's worried that he's starting to lose it, even though he never had it, etcetera.

Tears of silent realization running down his face. Listening to 13 Monsters by Lightning Bolt. He begins typing again.

"So what if I did?" Tails sez, swerving around on the road. Because he's drunk. "I'm drunk," he sez. Because he's drunk.

Did I mention that he's drunk? Because he's drunk. Very.

I keep on breaking narration and addressing the reader directly? I don't know what you're talking about.

"Well, what example to do you think that sets for the kiddies?" Sonic crosses his arms and leans back in his seat.

"Fuck the kiddies."

"Tails–"

"I sed: FFFFFFFUCK DA KIDDIES."

"TAILS."

Up ahead a procession of crippled orphans walk in a line across the street. In a crosswalk. Tied together by fishing wire, they shamble along the road on their crutches and wheelchairs, the wire cutting into their flesh and causing them to bleed, but they smile in spite of their condition, hoping to be put into new homes where they can finally be loved.

Tails hits the accelerator pedal and blasts through the four middle kids, showering the van with blood and gore.

"TAILS WHAT THE FUCK?"

The eight-year-old fox just keeps his foot pressed down on the pedal, dragging the other screaming orphans behind the van, grinding them down to bloody carcasses.

"You have your seatbelt on, right?"

"What?"

"The seatbelt always saves!" Tails sez with an ecstatic smile on his face.

As he swerves off the road and slams the car into a tree.

After a split-second black out Sonic cums to, hacking and coughing. "Jesus."

"Wut."

"Jesus Christ, Tails. What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Because I was wearing my seatbelt. And the seatbelt always saves."

"Not that. I mean what the fuck were you doing?"

"Oh! You mean with the crippled children."

"Yeah."

"And like, running them over?"

"Yeah."

"And then crashing the van into this tree?"

"Yeah!"

"You mean you don't know?"

Sonic looks a tad confused. "Don't know what?"

"I mean, I've told you again and again. You're just going to have to understand."

"Understand what?"

"That's your problem, Sonic. You just don't listen."

"I fucking listen! I just don't understand anything that you're saying!"

"Well that's the problem. You just gotta learn how to take it easy."

"Tails you fag–"

cornwallace: (10:18:19 PM) That's what I have so far. Gay, right?  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:19:47 PM) You blew my mind.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:19:48 PM) Hard.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:19:50 PM) And sticky.  
cornwallace: (10:20:12 PM) Wut  
cornwallace: (10:22:54 PM) I think the fact that this blew your mind just blew my mind. Hard. Sticky. Something I'm not sure I can ever scrub from the soul entirely.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:23:03 PM) Ewww.  
cornwallace: (10:23:06 PM) Did I mention I was high? Oh, by the way. I'm high.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:23:36 PM) I'm going to send you something beautiful.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:23:38 PM) Lemme jus find it.  
cornwallace: (10:23:55 PM YAY  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:03 PM) It's like, uh.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:06 PM) I can't even describe it.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:10 PM) But he's this, uh.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:14 PM) I can't even describe him.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:29 PM) Aight. Dylan's gonna make me try.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:38 PM) He has eighty albums.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:42 PM) He has never sold any of them.  
cornwallace: (10:25:42 PM) Jesus.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:47 PM) Oh wait.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:25:48 PM) Some of them.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:26:08 PM) But like, in the eighties.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:26:27 PM) It's, uh.  
cornwallace: (10:27:41 PM) If zune will ever listen to reason.  
cornwallace: (10:28:30 PM) So, like  
cornwallace: (10:28:34 PM) If he doesn't sell this stuff  
cornwallace: (10:28:44 PM) How did you get your slutty little hands on it?  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:30:07 PM) He's my friend.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:30:14 PM) Or Dylan's friend.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:30:20 PM) He gives all of his albums to Dylan.  
cornwallace: (10:30:35 PM) How long has he been producing?  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:32:38 PM) Man.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:32:50 PM) I don't know. Since the 70's, I think  
cornwallace: (10:34:51 PM) Why doesn't he sell this stuff?  
cornwallace: (10:34:56 PM) Does he hate the world?  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:36:14 PM) Yes.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:36:25 PM) He loves life, but he hates the music industry.  
cornwallace: (10:37:06 PM) :(  
cornwallace: (10:46:13 PM )How much of this awesomeness do you have?  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:48:57 PM) One album.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:49:20 PM) You want it? :9  
cornwallace: (10:49:25 PM) I do. :9  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:55:22 PM) If my internet will stop being a fag.

* * *

"God damn it, for the last fucking time, you racially confused fuck, I'm not a fag."

"But face it, du. You are effeminate."

"No, I'm not. Like, seriously. I'm manly as shit."

"You're an effeminate weirdo, Tails."

"Bullshit. I was easily the best character in Sonic 3. I can fly, for fuck's sake. And swim. Come on, Sonic, it's practically cheating, being me. I'm a fucking badass."

"Is that why you needed the big dumb robot thing to walk around in?"

"God damn it, dude, that's Sonic Adventure 2, that doesn't fucking count."

"You were like the retard of the group. Rolling along in your oversized, futuristic wheelchair."

"That's below the belt, Sonic."

"Man up, kid. You're like a little girl. Stop it."

"I'm going to blame the crashing of this van on you, Sonic."

"Me? I wasn't even driving. Seriously. Que es pinche bunghole, man."

"Letting an eight year old drink and drive? Seriously? You should be ashamed of yourself, Sonic. You need help."

"You're insane, Tails. Batshit fucking insane."

"Actually, I'm a genius. It says so in countless biographies of me on the internet."

"Bummer may Horus."

"What does that even mean?"

"Fuck, man. I don't know. You're supposed to be the genius."

"Well, shit. What are we going to do now?"

"Fuck, man. I don't know. You're supposed to be the genius."

"I suppose you're right. Say, what time is it?"

"Fuck, man. I don't know. You're supposed to be the genius."

"Fine, I'll check myself," Tails sez, looking at the clock. "Hm, 9:10. When the hell did that happen?"

"Fuck, man. I don't know. You're supposed to be the genius."

"Oh shi-"

The sun is suddenly replaced by the moon. At 9:10. Because I said so. Tails looks over to the seat next to him, and in Sonic's place is a wild, pissed off werehog.

"Sonic?"

"RAAWWWR!" Sonic responds, thrashing around the wrecked van with his giant stretchy claws of injustice.

Tails squeals like a girl and struggles with the locked door. Too scared and retarded to work it out, he grabs the window crank and turns it madly as the window rolls down slowly. He dives out the opening, catching his waist on the window. He kicks madly and forces his way to the ground.

Jumping to his feet, Tails bolts as quickly as far as he can before stopping at a tree to catch his breath.

"Hello, Tails."

"What? Who the fuck is that? Show yourself. It's dark."

A lady steps into the moonlight, wearing a pig suit with H1N1 written across her chest.

"Respice Finem, at your service."

"What's with the suit?" Tails sez.

"Oh, that. I'm swine flu. This is my Halloween costume."

"But it's May."

"So? A woman can think, can't she?"

"That's my line. Or, Falco's line. Or Swiper's line. Not you. No. Not for you."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want," Finem sez. "I'm like, God here, and shit."

"What do you mean."

"I play with toys."

"What? I don't quite follow your meaning."

"You wouldn't. I thought you were supposed to be a genius."

"I am, okay? Look, can you help me?"

"What do you need help with?"

"My friend just turned into a werewolf... uh... hog... thing."

"Werehog?" Finem sez. "Oooo, I loved Unleashed."

"Unleashed?"

"You're not a genius. You're stupid. Do you live under a rock?"

"No. I live inside one. I've mastered the mechanics of living inside rocks."

Finem whistles.

"Wow, you must really be a genius, then, huh?"

"Oh, fuck you. That was sarcasm."

"That was, too, genius."

"If you know so much, how do I get him to turn back into my stupid friend?"

"Oh, the moon turned him into that. You need the sun to change him back."

"So, like, what do you recommend? He's after me."

"Oh, don't worry about that. You see, he's all slow and shit now. It'll take him awhile to catch up."

"Yeah, oka-"

Sonic suddenly bursts through the trees and tears Finem's head off, throwing it to Tails and tearing into the rest of her body with his claws and teeth. Violently ripping her apart in a retarded bloodlust of mongoloid rage. Hard.

Tails looks down at the head.

"Holy shit!" he sez. "Are you okay?"

"Awaiting transmission from God. Please stand by."

Sonic turns his attention from the pile of meat to Tails."

"Oh shi-"

Sonic lurches at Tails, who jumps in the air and manages to fly out of his reach just in the nick of time.

Flying over the trees, Tails brings the severed head up to his own, face to face, and he shakes it.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW?"

"UV light."

"What?"

"God is telling me UV light. Like the sun. Turn him back. Hard."

"Where the fuck am I supposed to get a UV light?"

"Plothole."

"What?"

"It's Snatch. You get the UV light from plothole."

"Are you alright?"

"Shutting down... Goodbye."

"FUCK!" Tails sez, hurling the head to the ground below.

Suddenly, and with no warning, he runs out of breath and crashes back down into the forest, somewheres. Somewheres just so happens to be right next to Sonic.

"BARGLEBARGLERAA AAAAAWWWWWWRRRR RRR!"

"What?"

"!" Sonic sez.

"What?"

"Bargle. Bargle. Rawr."

"Yeah, okay... Wait, shi-"

Sonic lunges at Tails' small, childlike frame, but almost as if planned by god, just in time, Tails locates a handheld UV light and shines it on him.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Sonic explodes, like a vampire.

No, wait. He turns back into a hedgehog. That's right.

Yeah. That one.

"SONIC!" Tails sez, excitedly dropping the light at his feet and running over for a hug. On impact, the flashlight shatters. Tails doesn't think about it, and tightly hugs his friend. Who turns back into a werehog.

"Oh shi-"

* * *

KSSSSSSSS SSHHHHHH HH HH HHH HH HH H HH HHH HHHH HHH HH

* * *

Swiper. No Swiping. (5:04:16 AM): What the fuck are you doing to my masterpiece, you fucking faggot?  
cornwallace (5:04:33 AM): Yeah. Yeah, I take it in the pooper from time to time.  
cornwallace (5:04:40 AM): It's a lifestyle choice. I stand by it.  
Swiper. No Swiping. (5:04:56 AM): Fix it, you fag. Fix it, or I'll drag you behind my fucking scion.

* * *

"I like 'em young," Fish sez, driving the van through a red light, cars slamming on their brakes around him, honking and screaming. "They're so tender when they're little. Tender like veal. Mmm."

"Yeah," Fritzl sez, licking his lips, "and tight, too."

"I had this one chubby boy once. Man, his little monkey was a sweet as a nut, but his pee-wees I could not chew. Threw them in the toilet."

"Bet he was tight, too," Fritzl sez. "Anyway. I'd like to know what we're doing in this here van."

"Happy is he, who taketh thy little ones, and dasheth their heads against the stones."

"Wut?"

"Don't you read the bible, boy? That shit is scripture."

"Which book?"

"The book of Hamilton," Fish sez, stuffing his hands down his pants to scratch himself and sniffing his fingers. "That's the bestun."

"Never read it. But that doesn't answer my question."

"You'll understand when you're older. Man, these nails are killing me. Think you could paddle me later?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Holy shit, Joe!" Fish sez, pointing. "Look!"

"Wut?" Fritzl's attention is drawn to a little girl sitting on a bench by the street, all by herself. "Holy shit, du. Offer her candy."

"I got this," Fish sez, pulling up to her and rolling down his window.

"Offer her candy, du. I'm serious."

"Okay, okay, just shut the fuck up."

Fish turns to the little girl to offer her candy, but instead, something goes off in his brain. You can see it in his eye. It starts twitching and bugs out. Before anybody can react, Fish has leaped through the window, run over to the little girl and strangled her to death.

"DIIIEEEE BITCH!"

Fritzl panics and gets out of the van, running over to him and pries him off her.

"Look what you did now, asshole! I was gonna have sex with her!"

"I'm sorry, Joe. It's my blood lust. I can't control it. Look, you can still have sex with her. She just won't move around so much."

"It's not the same!" Fritzl sez, sobbing.

"Aw, come on, Joe. I see that smile."

"No! I wanted to fuck me a live one!"

"This one's still good! Come on, bucko. Cheer up. Have sex with her, then we'll find you a live one. Pinky promise."

"No crosses count?" Fritzl sez, sniffing.

"No crosses count. I'll even lock myself in the back of the van."

"Thank you, Fish," he sez, wiping his eyes.

Fritzl has sex with the corpse then they toss it in the back of the van to cook later. They get back in the van and set out for graet justice.

Which comes in the form of David Berkowitz, standing in the middle of the road, holding his shirt up and exposing his giant flabby man boobs.

The van swerves off the road and hits a tree. Then it explodes in flames. Nobody was wearing a seatbelt. Nobody was saved. The seatbelt always saves. THE SEATBELT. IT ALWAYS SAVES. WHY AREN'T YOU LISTENING.

Berkowitz turns to his dog. "Did I do good, cornwallace?"

And the dog who is possessed by cornwallace but voiced by Tom Waits sez: "Yeah, okay. I want more, though. Kill more people."

"Okay, cornwallace. You're the best dog ever."

And so Berkowitz runs out into the middle of the road, lifting up his shirt and waiting for some more furfags to drive by in their nondescript white vans, when all of a sudden a giant meteorite cums right in my eye and destroys everything in a five-mile radius all over my face and everyone dies.

EXPLOSIONS!

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I don't know what's real anymore...

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cornwallace: (10:56:30 PM) I like you.  
cornwallace: (10:56:33 PM) But I'd like you more if you had Dish Network.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:56:44 PM) I'd like myself more too.

*

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cornwallace: (10:56:30 PM) I like you.  
cornwallace: (10:56:33 PM) But I'd like you more if you had Dish Network.  
Swiper. No swiping.: (10:56:44 PM) I'd like myself more too.

Okay, so Star Wolf walks into a bar, right? And this isn't just any bar. It's the bar. You know. THE bar. That bar from every single joke you've ever heard before in your life. He looks to the bartender and he sees the pope, Santa Claus, and Jesus, drinking away their sorrows with everclear, whisky and wine, respectively. Suddenly, it comes to Wolf's attention that his culture doesn't believe in Jesus. Because there is no Jesus in StarFoxland, there is no celebration of the 25th of December, thus, no Christmas, and no Santa Claus. And because Jesus never existed, the pope vanishes as well. They are replaced with a black man, a Mexican man, and a white man. Wolf sits down at the bar, and the bartender sez "you must be new around here, boy." So, Wolf, he sez, he sez, "I hail from Corneria, I'm just stopping by your quaint little planet here for a shot of whisky and maybe a blowjob from some poor backwoods Krystal recolor whore. If that's okay with you." The bartender nods and he sez, he sez "The next drink you are served will be the most important drink of your lives. All of you. The question is; what will you drink to? Remember. This could be the most important decision you will ever make." The bartender sets a 40oz of malt liquor in front of the black man, and he considers this for a second. He picks it up and pours a fair amount on the floor and he sez, he sez, "dis one b goin' out to all mai dead homeys, yo. Da ones who couldn't make it hura today." With that, he knocks the 40 back and drinks until it's empty. Once he sets the empty bottle on the bar, he explodes into a mass of crisco, dousing everything around him. The bartender pours a shot of tequila for the Mexican, and sets it in front of him. "I drink to sleep, ese. I'm tired, holms." He drains the shot glass and explodes into bean mass, covering his end of the bar. The bartender makes the whiteman a dry as fuck martini, because that's the way he likes it. He sez, he sez "I wanna drink to the red man, who's land I stole and women I raped. I want to drink to everything I took and played off perfectly like I earned. I want to drink to the suffering of millions for my pleasure. Cheers." He drains it, and evaporates into a cloud of pure hatred. The bartender turns to Wolf and pours him a shot of whisky. He takes the shot glass and looks at it. "So, Wolf. What are you going to drink to?" The bartender asks. Wolf looks at him and he sez, he sez, "so there was this one time I was walking around the park, and I get tired, so I sit down on a park bench, right?" The bartender nods. "So, I sit there, and this little girl comes walking by, and she's crying. I sez, I sez, what are you crying for, child? And what are you doing out here so late? It's going to be dark soon. And she looks up at me, and she sez, she sez, 'I looking for Ducky!' so, I sez, I sez, 'what the fuck's a Ducky?' and she sez, she sez, 'Ducky me doggy. He runned away!' It was at this point it came to me. This little girl is retarded. And she looks about twelve. Well, it doesn't take a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon to tell you I immediately got a hardon. So, I turns to the girl and I sez, I can help you find Ducky. She sez 'you caaaaan?' And I sez sure, sure. I just need you to hop in the back of my van. I also have some candy back there you can munch on while we look for him. Well, she got all excited, and asked me where the van was. She asked me my name, and I told her it was Fox McCloud. Hers was Suzie. Cute name. So, I took her tiny retarded little hand and we walked to my van. I threw her in the back, and sure enough, we found Ducky. Coincidentally, I still hadn't named my cock, and was in search for a good one. So, we found Ducky and had to bury him in her back yard. Hard-style. Then I had to beat her to death and leave her bleeding corpse by the creak in the woods on the edge of the park." He nods and raises the glass slightly. "So, you're drinking to Suzie?" the bartender sez, and Wolf sez, "no." He looks at Wolf funny and asks him what he's going to drink to. Wolf shakes his head and sez, he sez, "I swear to god, I'm not a fucking Fox recolor. And I'll drink to that. A-fucking-men." Wolf knocks it back, and the color drains from his fur. He takes off the eye patch and Fox stands in his place in black and white. Then he blows up.

Naw, ya geddit?


	4. The glorious end

**SNATCH**_ 9000  
_"Final Snatch"

* * *

MEANWHILE.  
On the cloud-covered streets of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

"Oh shit."

"Shit what?"

"Look at that, Fox. Look at this fucking faggot."

Outside of the David L. Lawrence Convention Center stands a lone fursuiter, holding a cardboard sign that reads: "FURRIES ARE PEOPLE TOO. JUST PEOPLE THAT ARE PRETENDING TO BE ANTHROPOMORPHIC ANIMALS."

"Goddamnit. Falco, keep driving."

The brakes of the van squeal as Falco pulls the car over to the side of the road.

"Falco keep driving! Don't fucking stop for him."

"You and me, Fox," Falco sez. "You and me. We gotta learn that little shit."

"C'mon, Falco," Fox whines like a fag. "Why do we have to stop."

"Stop being a faggot," Falco commands. Fox complies, getting the baseball bats out of the back of the van. The baseball bats are caked with blood. I just thought I'd throw that detail in there. You know. Cuz I'm a fag. And I break the fourth wall. Often. This is because I think it is funny. And it's not like you don't do it.

So Falco leaves the van running with the four ways on, right next to the convention hall. I don't know what the street's called. But if you've been there you understand what I'm talking about. It's one of those weird intersections, I don't really remember the layout. It doesn't matter. They park on the sidewalk. And they get out. Holding their bats.

The furfag continues holding the sign up as Fox and Falco quickly run towards him. Falco swings first, going directly for the ribs.

"Fuck," the furfag shouts in pain, muffled by his fursuit. "Help! Somebody! I'm being furpressed!"

"Shut the fuck up," Fox commands as he digs the end of the bloody bat into the furfag's head. "Just shut up. You fuck."

The fursuiter curls up into the fetal position and hides his fake plastic eyes behind his hands. Because he probably thinks it's real cute or something. Faggot.

"Pull off the head, Fox," Falco commands. Star Falco: commands.

Fox's baseball bat lands on the ground with a clatter. He reaches down and pulls off the head, revealing...

...you.

"Please don't hurt me," you whine. Like a pussy. You pussy.

"Look at us," Falco sez. "C'mon, you faggot. Look at us."

You remove the hands from your eyes and you see Fox and Falco staring at you. Fox and Falco, like from the games.

"Oh my god," you shriek. Like a faggot. You faggot. "Fox McCloud! Falco Lombardi! Is that really you?"

"Yeah, asshole. It's us," Fox sez.

"Oh my god! Oh my god oh my god oh my god!" If you weren't in pain you'd probably be up and jumping up and down. You're so excited your asshole is quivering. All of your wildest dreams are coming true. Cumming. Cumming true.

"We like, totally have to yiff. Right now."

"No, we don't," Falco sez. "And we won't. You need to stop this."

"S-stop what?" you stutter as your heart breaks.

"This disgusting behavior of yours that causes you to act like what you think is a cartoon character."

"But I am a rabbit," you plead. "I may look like a hyooman on the outside, but I am a rabbit on the inside. I know this to be true. I am just like you."

"No, you aren't," Fox snaps. "You're nothing like us. Nothing like us at all."

"Hey, don't fursecute me," you say as your bottom lip quivers. "The furry lifestyle is completely normal. I can live how I want to live."

"If you call this living, yes," Falco sez. "But life means one should be self-sufficient. And you're just a parasite, you asshole."

"I'm not!"

"You're a burden on everyone you know. Living in your parents' basement. Spending your days jacking off on your plushie collection. The most you've ever contributed to society is the money you've spent on copies of Disney's Robin Hood and Sonic the Hedgehog games."

You whimper like a pussy. Falco ignores you and continues.

"So many people in the real world enjoy franchises with anthropomorphic characters in them, but people get over it. Easily. They don't form obsessions with it. And certainly not sexual ones. They've moved on to discover very real relationships and very real sex. Without all this sexualization of children's toys, and children's videos and games. That's what's normal."

"It's okay to not be normal, though," you say.

"He doesn't mean normal," Fox sez. "He means adequate. You, sir, are an inadequate person. Defective."

"Being a furry is totally normal. Lots of people are furries!"

"If your friends were all jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?"

"But I'm not jumping off a cliff. I'm not even doing anything dangerous. I'm living the way I want to live."

"Being a furry isn't a lifestyle," Falco sez. "It's a fixation. Just another sexual fetish that is completely artificial. People may have an anthropomorphic animal fetish, but entirely accepting it and letting it control your life just impedes your natural development."

You sit back down on the ground. Holding your head, because it hurts like a motherfucker.

"You need to get out there and accomplish something," Fox explains. "Your personality is childish and put-upon, your ambition is next to nothing and you need to re-evaluate everything you think is important."

He kneels down to stare straight into your eyes. "We only came and hit you over the head because we care about you. And we're telling you this only because we care about you. You need to grow up."

Then they pick up the baseball bats and start hitting you all over your body with them. Because you deserve it, you fucking furfag.

MEANWHILE  
In the Pittsburgh Greyhound station across the street.

"_We'll keep the next bus for you_ my shit-encrusted asshole," Swiper mutters as he lets loose a stream of golden urine from his penis. I hope you are enjoying that image thoroughly.

SUDDENLY! KRYSTAL WALKS IN the BATHROOM! ! !

"HAY KID," she shrieks, "WANNA YIFF? ;)"

":9 OH BOY DO I EVAR! 1," sez Swiper.

He bends over, revealing his foul brown asshole to Krystal. She removes her clothing, her dick nipples standing freely erect in the air, and she sticks one into Swiper's ass with a groan and releases a torrent of poop all over the floor. Slowly Swiper's asshole opens more and more, reaching enormous proportions that would make goatse blush, and Krystal dives in head-first, entering his groaning belly where she's digested quickly. Swiper flips back his golden locks and pukes poop and bones into the toilet. He licks his lips and gives one final shit-eating smile to the camera.

"Oh touché," he sez.

Drop curtain.  
The end.

* * *

Thanks for being you, fanfiction dot net. Catch you on the flipside.


	5. One final I need you

"Aw yeah, you blue slut. Stick that shitting dick nipple in Swiper's ass," sez cornwallace as he vigorously rubs his injun dick and types the final chapter of Snatch with his other hand. But before he can properly cum in a .doc file and post it on fanfiction dot net, a meteorite crashes through his skylight and crushes him to death.

I hope that clears up who is a sock account of who.


End file.
